


That Doesn't Taste Like Strawberries

by BenevolentErrancy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fingering, First Time, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Virgin!Enjolras, general misuse of lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentErrancy/pseuds/BenevolentErrancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire never thought he would be in this situation.</p><p>And he didn’t even mean “in a relationship with Enjolras” (though holy crap he’s in a relationship with Enjolras!).  Heck, he didn’t even mean “sporting a super awkward and probably inappropriately timed boner over Enjolras” because let’s face it: that’s not new.  </p><p>No, he just didn’t think that somehow it would all accumulate to him being curled on his shitty couch with an awkward and probably-inappropriate boner while Enjolras did an absolutely sinful thing with his mouth against Grantaire’s neck and that it would peak with Enjolras stopping, staring him dead in the eye and saying “What in the world are you doing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Doesn't Taste Like Strawberries

**Author's Note:**

> For the kink meme prompt: 
> 
> jonesing for some first time virgin!enjolras sex, with any other ami, but e/r preferred  
> but not just your run-of-the-mill first time smut. I want suuuper uninformed e who, let’s face it, never got any kind of decent Talk from his parents and was either too embarrassed or just uninterested to get educated on his own or seek info from someone else. basically my soul for incredibly innocent, doesn’t know a thing, questioning, wide-eyed virginjolras getting fucked into oblivion

Grantaire never thought he would be in this situation.

And he didn’t even mean “in a relationship with Enjolras” (though _holy crap he’s in a relationship with Enjolras!_ ) which was odd because in this sort of moment – with him and Enjolras curled up together on his shitty couch, kissing lazily while some TV movie played in the background – that was normally exactly what Grantaire would be thinking.

Heck, he didn’t even mean “sporting a super awkward and probably inappropriately timed boner over Enjolras” because let’s face it: that’s not new. In fact the only reason that wasn’t more public knowledge was because he was a master of avoidance and had only been caught out once. And he had way more dirt on Courfeyrac than either of them like to think about so the secret was safe.

No, he just didn’t think that somehow it would all accumulate to him being curled on his shitty couch with an awkward and probably-inappropriate boner while Enjolras did an absolutely sinful thing with his mouth against Grantaire’s neck and that it would peak with Enjolras stopping, staring him dead in the eye and saying “What in the world are you doing.”

Grantaire never thought he would be in this position.

Frankly he wasn’t even really sure what this position was except that he really, _really_ wanted to have sex with his boyfriend right now and said boyfriend didn’t look particularly eager, but he also didn’t look particularly repulsed. He looked perplexed.  _Properly_ perplexed – not confused, or stumped, or any other possible synonym because Enjolras could do __perplexed_ _ like no one else.  It involved a flat expression, lowered, determined brows and a pursed mouth. It was an expression that said very clearly that something around him was being ridiculous and he couldn’t understand why but he fully intended to figure it out and possible exploit all of its faults until it was rearranged into something that made more sense. He had worn a very similar look when Bahorel had mentioned that he puts sliced pickles on his peanut butter sandwiches or when some particularly ignorant nay-sayer was shouting nonsense at a rally.

“Sorry?” Grantaire offered. “I mean I didn’t really– I wasn’t– You know, just anatomy and shit, right?”

“This hardly seems like the time,” Enjolras said, giving Grantaire a look that mixed the perplexed with a dash of disapproving. Grantaire felt rather affronted.

“I  _was_  just making out with my ridiculously hot boyfriend,” he pointed out. “It seemed like exactly the time. But, y’know, I get if you don’t want to, that’s fine too, we can get back to the movie.”

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Enjolras' eyebrows drew even tighter together. “Don’t want to  _ _what__ , Grantaire?  You’re speaking in half-sentences again.”

Grantaire floundered. There was a very critical piece of information he was missing right now, he just knew it. Still, finding no other option but to continue this train wreck of a conversation he offered, “Sex?” rather weakly.

Jerking back, Enjolras had the gall to look shocked. “When did _that_  come up?”

“About the same time this did?” cried Grantaire, gesturing pointedly to his jeans which were currently much tighter than they had been when he'd put them on this morning.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Enjolras cried right back.

Grantaire stared. Because what in the world did that even mean.  He figured the correlation between  _ _erection__  and  _ _sex now please__ was pretty self-explanatory. Enjolras obviously didn’t think so though because his perplexed expression was sliding into something closer to panic, which was a new expression for Enjolras, who had faced down police mobs, systematic oppression of minorities on a societal scale, and Grantaire pre-coffee-mid-hangover without missing a beat. But the idea that his boyfriend might get hard over him seemed to be undoing him.

“What do you mean what does it have to do with anything? Enjolras? What are you even talking about? You. Are. _ _Really__. Hot. And we were making out. And then certain body parts thought that seemed like a good reason to make an appearance. Because, you know, hot people consensually making out with you makes sex seem like a really good short term goal.” Enjolras looked lost and a little horrified. “That can’t be that surprising for you! You were a teenager and I know you have a dick, I’ve seen it!”

This snapped Enjolras out of his stupefied trance for a moment at least. “What, when did you–?” 

“Strip poker at Éponine’s last birthday, when you failed miserably ‘cause you couldn’t keep a neutral face if it killed you. But that’s not important. Dick, adolescence, stiffies – any of this ringing a bell for you?”

“They were never that much of an issue!” Enjolras cried. “It just seemed like a thing that happened on occasion and it was easy enough to deal with! I never thought– and if it was– ...I never really considered the relation!”

How did this happen, was all Grantaire could wonder. How did he end up in this situation? Because from what Grantaire remembered of his teenage years spontaneous boners were _absolutely_ an issue and tended to be set off by everything from an inopportune newspaper ad to math homework. Not to mention that Enjolras had been best friends with Courfeyrac since junior high! And was now _actively living with him_ !  _Courfeyrac_ , who Grantaire strongly suspected trusted his dick to act like a rudder and steer him towards the nearest available and amenable individual.  There was no way Enjolras could have somehow gone through all of this without  _at some point_ putting two plus two together.

Except if Enjolras’ increasingly confused and distressed (and red, wow, Grantaire wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Enjolras blush this much before) face was anything to go by he somehow had.

And now Grantaire was in this situation. He was too sober for this.

“Look, since this is obviously not something you’re interested in at the moment, can we please just go back to watching this movie?”

“In sex? I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.”

Grantaire’s head whipped up.

“Just because I might not be the most, ah, educated on the matter doesn’t mean that I have not considered the possibility of having sex with you, Grantaire.”

This was really when Grantaire should tell Enjolras that the moment was kind of ruined. The moment should really have been ruined at this point. His body, however, informed him curtly that it was absolutely not ruined and if his brain and mouth could kindly not fuck this up, that would be _great_.

Enjolras gave a huff of laughter at his boyfriend’s expression and shifted from his spot on the couch into Grantaire’s lap, from where he cupped the back of his head and kissed him long and slow. His mind kicking back into gear, Grantaire hummed into the kiss and grabbed Enjolras’ hips, pulling him closer. He may not know much about sex, but kissing was one thing that the two of them had perfected into an art form by now.

Enjolras let his mouth trail from Grantaire’s lips to his ear where he said softly, “If you are agreeable, I am a pupil more than willing to be taught.”

Fuck it, that shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but Enjolras had said it and Enjolras had a voice that Grantaire would face armed gunmen down for. So neither were really surprised when, holding onto Enjolras tightly so he wouldn’t fall, Grantaire lurched up from the couch and carried them both to the bedroom; Enjolras kept his arms and legs wrapped around Grantaire and his mouth against his and so it was really a miracle that they didn’t bash into a wall en route and were both able to collapse into the bed unharmed. They continued to lay together, intertwined and kissing, before Grantaire realized he really was going to have to take charge in this situation because Enjolras either truly had no idea how to progress past this step or else wasn’t brave enough to instigate it. So, slowly and reverently, he pulled back and started unbuttoning Enjolras’ shirt; Enjolras took the hint and sat up, letting it drop from his shoulders not an inch of uncertainty or shame when it came to exposing his body.

That was not a sentiment that Grantaire shared when Enjolras’ hands settled on his waist and start pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. He let him, of course, he had started this and he could hardly let some silly insecurities hold him back but he still shifted uncomfortably after the shirt had been dropped off the side of the bed and Enjolras just sat back and stared at him. Which, okay, could stop any moment now because he knew he wasn’t exactly a catch (misshapen and lumpy, with a boxer’s shoulders and a drinker’s stomach and enough hair to satisfy a bear) but he didn’t need to be reminded of it when he desperately wanted to have sex with his beautiful boyfriend.

“You're so gorgeous,” said Enjolras then, swallowing thickly. Taken aback, Grantaire could feel his face turning red. Objectively he was aware that Enjolras somehow thought he wasn't, well, completey unattractive but being bluntly reminded of it...

“Well,” Grantaire said, flustered, “sex is a little tricky if we’re sitting on other ends of the bed.”

And now of all times Enjolras chose to hesitate, hands hanging in the air as if he wasn’t sure where to put them.

“You’re allowed to touch me,” he said gently, moving closer and placing a hand on Enjolras’ hip. Somewhat emboldened, Enjolras leaned into Grantaire and laid his palms against his chest, apparently content to just run them up and down Grantaire’s side for the moment, and for the moment Grantaire was more than happy to let him. 

But sitting as close as they now were, practically in each other’s lap, Grantaire could now feel Enjolras’ interest press tangibly against his stomach and when he reached down to brush it Enjolras shuddered and swore. “You okay?” Grantaire asked, pulling back his hand just as Enjolras bit out, “Please. Don’t stop.” So with a bit of fumbling, any remaining clothing were shed and Grantaire was stroking Enjolras’ erection as Enjolras shuddered and gasped beneath him.

Reluctantly though Grantaire had to pull back with a quick “Hang on,” moving away from Enjolras who was spread out so decadently – long, flushed limbs and blonde hair sprawled over the bed – to rifle around in his night-stand. Enjolras, cock hard and dripping, cursed him vocally. The impatience turned into disbelief when Grantaire returned with condoms and a bottle.

“Really? Hand sanitizer? Now?” Enjolras groaned in frustration, his own hands now tugging at his cock. “You’ve been spending too much time around Joly.”

“Please don’t talking about our friends in bed,” Grantaire begged. “And for the love of god, it’s  _lube_. Jesus.” 

At Enjolras’s confused expression, Grantaire rolled his eyes and explained, “Lubricant. You know… to make things go… smoother?”

“I didn’t actually realize that was an issue I thought it just sort of… worked out well enough on its own.”

“Whoever you had for sex-ed actually needs to be shot,” said Grantaire as he squirted lube over his hand.

“But animals obviously wouldn’t have access to such a thing and they’re able to–”

“Okay, yes, but assume that in the wild there's often a girl and, y'know, a  _vagina_ involved.  Vagina's are smarter, they lube themselves up.  B ut in case you haven’t noticed I don’t actually _have_ one of those. Please tell me you weren’t confused on that at least.”

“I should hope not,” Enjolras returned with some bite. “However not all girls have vaginas, you really shouldn’t insinuate that–”

Grantaire groaned loudly and collapsed against Enjolras, dragging them both down into the bed. Huffing indignantly, Enjolras pushed Grantaire’s curls out of his face. “If this is how sex goes, I don’t think I’ve been missing much.”

Grantaire smirked at the blatant lie; Enjolras’s hips kept twitching, rubbing his hard cock against Grantaire’s hips. “In my experience it tends to involve a partner who’s less willing to use words of over one syllable.” 

“That must have been hard on you.”

Laughing, Grantaire propped himself up and met Enjolras’ lovely eyes again. “Yeah, I guess it kind of was.” He leaned down for another kiss, which led to Enjolras reaching up and knitting his fingers into Grantaire’s hair, pulling him closer, deeper, and–

“Eugh!”

“Fuck.”

Grantaire had gone to cup Enjolras’ face, only to forget that his one hand was still covered in lube. They stared at each other for a moment as it oozed slowly down Enjolras’s cheek and finally Grantaire couldn’t take it anymore; he fell to his side, crying into his laughter at the stunned look of disgust on his boyfriend’s face.

“You did that on purpose,” Enjolras accused, fighting back a smile as he scraped it off with one hand before lunging at Grantaire, attempting to smear it over his face in retaliation. Grantaire wrestled with Enjolras for a moment before cheekily catching the lube-covered hand and giving it a long, wet lick which dragged another disgusted noise out of Enjolras’ mouth.

“Good god, how did that  _taste_?”

“Like strawberries,” Grantaire said, grinning. “Well, theoretically.”

“…Straw–  _What?_  Why  _strawberries_?”

“I like strawberries,” Grantaire said. “Excuse me if it doesn’t meet your bourgeoisie palette. I’m sure next time I can find, like, passionfruit or cheesecake or something equally ridiculous.”

“Cheese ca– But why would it be– Why is it  _flavoured_? Why would they need to flavour lubricant?”

Grantaire just grinned at him. “Shall I show you?”

He took the arched brow as approval and, after obtaining more lube, began stroking it up and down Enjolras’ shaft, getting drunk off all the little noises his boyfriend made with the recommencement of their earlier activities. Just as Enjolras was really beginning to squirm, eyes closed and head thrown back, Grantaire dropped his mouth down onto it. The sound that came out of Enjolras' mouth then would be able to sustain Grantaire for weeks.

“Oh my– _ah_ –! Your mouth! Why do you have that in your  _mou_ – _ooo_ _ _h__ –”

Feeling that Enjolras was rather answering his own question, Grantaire chose to focus on licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock rather than answering. Based off hands that flew into Grantaire’s hair and pulled sharply, Enjolras approved of this choice.

Only once Enjolras was a proper, shuddering mess did Grantaire take the pleasure in pulling back for a moment to kiss him. “How was that for an explanation?”

“That,” Enjolras wheezed, “didn’t taste like strawberries at all.”

Grantaire laughed and was preparing to go back to working over his boyfriend, when said boyfriend decided he actually still had more questions and even being desperately hard, sweaty, and flushed up to his golden hair couldn’t stop an Enjolras who wanted answers.

“But why would you need lubricant to do… that? Whatever that was. Lick someone. You said vaginas don’t need it and it didn’t seem overly necessary in what you just did – unless it’s only for taste, does it taste awful without it–?”

“Look, for handjobs and whatever – that's when you’re using your hands to stroke someone, get it? Good – it just makes everything smoother and feel better, okay? And then it's also for, you know, anal. For obvious reasons.”

“Anal.”

“I don’t see how you can be the head of a group that actively promotes sexual equality and be this fucking clueless about sex.”

“The whole point of this movement is that what happens in someone's bedroom with another consenting adult is nobody’s business but their own. There’s never been a reason for me to scrutinize the specifics.”

“Keep talking dirty to me, baby,” said Grantaire dryly; Enjolras clearly didn’t get the joke. “Okay, yes, fine, anal. You know, like…” Grantaire makes a gesture. Enjolras’ eyes widen. They jump from Grantaire and then down to his still very hard dick and then back again.

“No… It’s too small, it wouldn't fit.”

“That’s why the lube. And foreplay. Lots of glorious foreplay,” Grantaire hummed and, getting a little tired of the endless amount of talk (and really, he shouldn’t have expected anything else from Enjolras), started sucking at the hollow between Enjolras’ throat and ear.

“Fore–” he started to say but Grantaire had moved his mouth over the pulse point on his neck and the words was replaced with a heady moan. “B-but! Ah! Aire, wha-? Mmn! Foreplay? How does – oh! – that help?”

Grantaire was a little busy licking at a bruise he was placing on Enjolras’ collarbone (this at least was territory that they were both very familiar with – the days when Enjolras felt like he had to wear his jacket with the ridiculously high collar were amusing, as if he thought for one second their friends hadn’t figure out what that meant by the third time) so he just wiggled his fingers meaningfully.

It took a moment and a bit more writhing on both their parts before the implication sunk in. “What, like a _prostate exam_?”

Grantaire pulled back and glowered at Enjolras, who would be looking deliciously undone if it weren’t for his disgusted expression. “You know how I said you were hot? I take it back. You couldn’t be less sexy if you actively tried.” He considered that for a moment. “You aren’t actively trying, are you?”

“I just don’t see how it can be remotely appealing to have someone’s fingers up my butt,” Enjolras said stubbornly.

“You could always stick yours up mine then,” Grantaire suggested, wiggling his eyebrows in teasing invitation. The look Enjolras returned was very uncertain and Grantaire recognized that this was probably a moment to actually speak plainly.

“Look, Enjolras, we don’t have to do that, okay? It is absolutely not a requirement, especially not right now. We can just keep doing this, and talk about other stuff later when we’re not both… well…” Out of breath and sweaty and horny and covered in lube.

Enjolras was now looking at Grantaire’s dick (which, as delightful as this had all been so far, was definitely crying out for some attention). “It just seems like it must hurt…”

“Love, listen. If sex ever hurts, you’re doing it wrong and you stop. Everyone involved stops. That's non-negotiable. It’s meant to feel good for everyone.” Okay, it was actually negotiable, in a sense, but kink sex was absolutely not something Grantaire was bringing up right now.

“I know that,” Enjolras cut in, looking embarrassed – this was one of many things he advocated, loudly and strongly. “It’s just…”

“I get it. I promise you though, if it’s done right it absolutely does not hurt. Personally, I think it’s fan-fucking-tastic. But like I said, we can go back to what we were doing before, if you want. Or, I mean, if you are curious I could go super slow and show you just how much it doesn’t hurt, if you like.”

Enjolras, bless him, actually took his time to consider this. “I think I’d like that. To try it.” He grinned at Grantaire, looking more sure of himself again. “You made your argument well and have piqued my interest, M. Grantaire.”

Grantaire just groaned, low and aroused. “How can you use words like fucking __piqued_ _ right now, Jesus fucking Christ. Here, lie back on the bed.”

Enjolras sprawled back on the bed and Grantaire could hardly stand it, he just wanted to fall on this beautiful god now, fast and desperate, but he forced himself to be slow, first teasing Enjolras with a finger and once he began to respond, he cover his fingers in probably more lube than necessary. Once Grantaire slipped a finger in, Enjolras inhaled so sharply that Grantaire nearly pulled right back out, until Enjolras managed had assured him it felt okay, just strange. Stroking and twisting that finger, Enjolras was mewing contently on the bed, and bucked when Grantaire crooked it. Once he had started to loosen Grantaire proceeded to add a second finger.

If his erection had flagged at all during their impromptu discussion, getting to watch Enjolras fall apart under his ministration had it back with a vengeance.

A third finger followed and soon Enjolras was gasping against the hand he had pressed against his mouth, whining for more and shuddering as Grantaire probed inquisitively, searching for Enjolras’ prostate. He knew he’d found it when Enjolras suddenly swore and jerked violently, hands flying from his mouth to knot in the sheets.

“Holy shit! Fucking shit, Grantaire, what was that? Do that again, holy fuck.”

Grantaire couldn't help but laugh, Enjolras never swore this much, but he eagerly complied, rubbing Enjolras with his fingers and seeking out that magic spot again.

Finally he asked, “You ready for more, love?”

“For your, ah…?” Enjolras started to ask.

“Dick? Yeah. If you want. Otherwise we can totally keep doing this – I seriously think you've just made fingering one of my new all-time favourite things.”

“N-no, I'm ready. Just, fuck, Grantaire, _hurry_ , fuck.”

Deftly, Grantaire slid a condom on and lined himself up, sliding in bit by bit though he was biting his lip to keep that pace. At first Enjolras had squeezed his eyes shut and needed the time to adjust and get use to the feeling, but it didn’t last long.

“I– fuck– swear to god, Aire, if you don’t do, do… do  _something_  right now…” the threat trailed off as Grantaire started to move more surely and Enjolras’ speech dissolved into fantastic, incoherent noises. Which was about all Grantaire could manage right now anyway, his mind was focused entirely on __hot__ and __tight__ and __Enjolras__. After all the other stimulation this evening, it didn’t take long, especially not after Grantaire was able to relocate his prostate. With a choking cry that built and built until it spilled with his seed, Enjolras orgasmed.

Grantaire pulled out as Enjolras collapsed bonelessly back onto the bed and, with the very fixed image of Enjolras as he came in his mind, frantically worked to finish himself. Enjolras, as his breathing began to ease a little, saw this and sat up. With determined movements that brooked no argument, Enjolras reached over and took Grantaire’s dick in his hand and started to stroke it. Inexperienced though it was it didn’t take much and Grantaire was soon coming. Revelling in the afterglow, Grantaire took the pleasure in being able to hug a pliant Enjolras to his chest after tossing away the condom.

“S’wet,” Enjolras murmured sleepily. “’n sticky.”

“Mmm, that can happen,” Grantaire agreed, carding his fingers though Enjolras’ sweaty hair.

“It was fantastic.”

“Thank god.”

“Sorry I was so useless during all that,” Enjolras murmured.

Grantaire snorted and pressed his face against Enjolras’ shoulder. “You were perfect. Even if apparently you talk through __everything_ _ .” And damn it, Grantaire could feel Enjolras’ smirk and he _really_ wanted to kiss him again. “Wanna shower?”

“God, yes,” Enjolras responded. “I wasn’t sure if it would be polite to ask. Just… in a couple minutes.”

Grantaire found that he was very, very okay with putting it off for a few more minutes. And if he and Enjolras both accidentally ended up falling asleep like that then, well, there were worst things to wake up to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For awkward, unsexy sex look no further than your local ace writer.


End file.
